


between the stardust and the sand

by adarksweetness (chayaasi)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Anthony Stark (Earth-TRN591), Fluff and Angst, M/M, Marvel 1872 #2, Multiverse, Soulmates, Time Travel, Tony Stark(Noir)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 23:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13087722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chayaasi/pseuds/adarksweetness
Summary: In a world that's always changing, soulmates are a perpetual feeling. Or, Steve and Tony get a visitor from the far-flung future.





	between the stardust and the sand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clumsykitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clumsykitty/gifts).



> Inspired by the prompt: * Steve and Tony travelling through universes.  
> Thank you to @chibisquirt and @fanmkii on tumblr for their beta work!
> 
> This fic is set mainly in the MCU, where Steve and Tony encounter Sorcerer Supreme Anthony Stark from Earth-TRN591.  
> Other verses include: Noir-verse, 1872, Earth 3940, and back again on Earth-TRN591
> 
> Happy holidays, ClumsyKitty! I hope you enjoy this :)

“The thing is: there’s always a key. Sure, it’s a bit egoistic, perhaps even selfish, to say that even though every hero on Earth will give it their damned best to move the ball forward, the Universe has its heart set on a specific couple of jerks to make the final shot, but— I think I just described all team sports.”

 

Tony is only half-listening. He dedicates the majority of his brain power to rebooting his armor. A not insignificant minority tries to parse out what part of Chicago this is (because that’s where his flight plan says he is), and the remaining portion of his brain fascinatedly observes a cluster of red and gold helper bots (he assumes), each consisting of a torso, two arms, and a single blue eye on their faceplates. 

 

With his cognitive energy thus distributed, he has just enough left to assess his current situation without thinking too much about Steve Rogers standing next to him. (Not at the moment, at least; later. Later, Tony will definitely dedicate the rest of his life to really unpack Steve’s dark and bearded, no-insignia wanderer chic, but right now, he’s got priorities.)

 

To that end…

 

“Hey, quick question,” he asks the man sitting cross-legged in the air. “Who are you?”

 

The man smiles like the front cover of a pamphlet for a cult. “Oh, just the Sorcerer Supreme,” he says. “for the whole galaxy.”

 

Tony frowns, because it’s tragic that he, a man of science, has knowledge of this. “Hate to break it to you, but we actually already have one⸺”

 

“Stephen Strange, yes,” the sorcerer waves dismissively. “I’ve met him, great guy. But I am from the far-flung future, though, around the corner from yours. Please note, I say corner because Riri hasn’t yet coined the actual term for it.”

 

Tony frowns. “Riri...you’re talking about Riri Williams? How do you know her?”

 

“Same way you did,” the sorcerer replies. “She’s the future and⸺ ok, do you really not recognize me?” 

 

Tony dithers, because his suit still isn’t showing any signs of life and he cannot wrap his head around why a wizard from the far-flung future is name dropping a scholarship student from MIT. Although, he’s right about one thing: given what Riri Williams has managed to accomplish with her share of the September Foundation Grant, she  _ is _ the future. In fact, Tony had been on his way to Chicago to tell her just that when he got pulled into this funny interdimensional detour.

 

Speaking of which, Tony wonders what Steve’s story is. He’s rough ‘round the edges, dressed in what looks like a homemade stealth suit. Actually, now that Tony looks closely, it’s still Steve’s old uniform, just without any badges of alliance or identity. Tony tries not to dwell on that, and luckily, the beard is distraction enough. Steve had always been meticulous in his grooming; even reels of him from the war showed him square-jawed and clean shaven. But that was the Army and this is...this is Erskine’s experiment running wild. 

 

Steve, who hasn’t said much since techno-Dumbledore here poofed him in, finally opens his mouth. “You’re Tony.”

 

The sorcerer breaks into a wide grin and folds into an unnecessarily complicated curtsy without once touching the ground. “Bravo, Captain Rogers. It is indeed I, Dr. Anthony Stark, Sorcerer Su⸺”

 

“⸺ Supreme, great!” Tony exclaims, only a little hysterically because that, if nothing else, is a sign that he’s dreaming. He’s been having some bizarre fucking dreams lately. “So, you two seem to be getting along, and I have shit to do; I’m going to go.”

 

That neither of them make a move to stop him should have been telling. Tony makes it about a hundred steps toward something that looks reasonably like a door before he abruptly loops back around to where he started. Tony curses when he’s met with a look of disappointment from Steve (Also, just what the  _ fuck  _ has he been up to over the last year that this doesn’t faze him?), and a smug smile from Dr. Stark.

 

“You suck.”

 

“I’m 126 years old,” Anthony informs him with a shrug. “I’ve set my life up not to lift a finger on petty bullshit these days. Not to mention, it’s New Year’s Eve where I’m from, too, and if you make me miss the party, I’m pretty much guaranteed not to get laid for the next year.”

 

Tony wrinkles his nose pettily. “Ew.”

 

“Shut up,” Anthony counters good-naturedly. “Your soulmate here is 90.”

 

To his credit, Tony manages to keep his utter bewilderment and panic on the inside, where it always belongs. 

 

Steve... makes a noise. “Soulmate?”

 

“Oh no,” Anthony deadpans, touching his fingertips to his chest, where a circle of light, too bright to be the ARC reactor, pushes past the flimsy barrier of his robe. “You didn’t know?”

 

Theoretically, Tony does know what the Eye of Agamotto is. He doesn’t put much stock in it, because, a) man of science, and b) Strange had given him the wiki version after luring Tony into his stupid brownstone by pulling Rhodey’s medical file. The upside was that Rhodey got referred to better physical therapists than even Tony knew, and Strange was rather supportive about his fears of an alien army amassing in space. (It’s the little things.) 

 

Among other things, the Eye manipulates time. If Tony gives in to that unmoored feeling as space, time, and matter remake themselves, he can suddenly remember 1939.

 

-

 

_ 1939 had opened in light. Tony kissed Pepper’s offered cheek when the clock struck midnight on New Year’s. She was flawless, champagne-pink, and limned with gold from the lights of Stark Expo. Gold at the edges of Iron Man. Glittering smiles for the crowd thrumming with war-anxiety under its too-wide grin.  _

 

_ Gold hair and bright, bright,  _ bright _ blue eyes at  _ Marvels’ _ last release party, where someone called him brave. A hero for going off to war.  _

 

_ Tony wouldn’t have quite put it that way; back then, he was still calling it his mission to engage with the world. Now, as 1940 creeps up in the stale darkness of a top secret medical facility in Brooklyn, the world engages back.  _

 

_ Steven Rogers looks like a bedraggled cat, wheezing on the operating table, clutching a worn out copy of  _ The New Adventures of Tony Stark _. His gold hair and blue eyes are washed out by the fluorescent lights. _

 

_ “I don’t want to be a hero,” he’s saying, “I just don’t want to be told what I can’t do. If  _ you _ can patch up your afflictions with science and serve, why can’t I?” _

 

_ Tony doesn’t have an answer, except that he’s lost count of the number of surgeries and steroid injections that Steve’s gone through to date. All he knows is that Steve survives them and that’s enough for Erskine to call him back for more. The files on Project Rebirth quite clearly state how the odds of survival decrease after each round of procedures, meaning this cycle could quite reasonably be the one that kills Steve. _

 

_ And Tony loves Steve, so much more than he wants Fury to have a supersoldier. _

 

_ “There are other ways to serve.” _

 

_ Steve smooths out a corner of the magazine that’s become dogeared. “This is my way, Tony, my choice,” he replies. “Just...whatever happens, promise you’ll keep me on the books. I want to help.” _

 

_ There’s something about the way Steve looks at the illustrated cover...  Clear as a bell, Tony comes to something of a profound understanding. An Irish kid from the Lower East Side with too many ailments to count has never belonged anywhere, and so Steve doesn’t know how to belong to anybody but himself. That’s why he ruthlessly shoulders the prolonged agony of Project Rebirth, not to become part of Fury’s arsenal, but for the chance to do what he believes in. If Steve can go through all that, then the least Tony can do is have faith and wait.  _

 

_ He walks up the operating table and takes Steve’s hand. They’re not quite frail anymore; this far into Rebirth, they’ve filled out with wiry muscle. “Don’t you worry,” he says. “I’ll be right here, ok?”  _

 

_ Steve sets his jaw. “I ain’t scared,” he lies. _

 

_ “No, you’re not,” Tony agrees. “I’ll be there when you wake up, anyway. Someone’s gotta tell Fury I got first dibs on Steve Rogers.” _

 

-

 

Tony comes out of that vision, or memory, whatever, gasping for air. With his helmet still non-functional, hs faceplate suddenly feels too close, and it’s like he’s breathing through a pinhole. 

 

He doesn’t see Steve from the corner of his eye or hear the click of the manual release until cold air hits his face, and the only thing keeping him from falling is Steve’s massive shoulder. Of course, Steve still knows where those releases are. Of course, he still reads Tony so well, as if the layer of armor, their time apart, and the distance between them had never been.

 

Gazing into clear azure eyes, Tony abruptly recalls the letter Steve had written him after Siberia.  _ I never fit in anywhere, _ said the words,  _ not even in the Army _ . Yet, here he is beside Tony, as promised, without a shield, without backup, without anything, because the best thing Steve ever has to offer is himself.

 

“Why?” Tony asks before he can stop himself. “Why would...I  _ hated _ you! I even took your shield⸺ why would you say you’d come?”

 

Steve looks bewildered for a moment, then lost. “I didn’t think about it,” he answers. “I...it’s you, Tony. That’s all that mattered.” 

 

Anthony regards them from where’s sitting cross-legged 6 feet in the air. “They say a soulmate is like a perpetual feeling even when everything changes,” he says thoughtfully. “Do you know what’s over that horizon, Captain?”  

 

Steve flinches and tears his gaze away. “Don’t...call me that. I’m not Captain America anymore.” 

 

“You’re still the Universe’s answer to a catastrophe,” says Anthony. “You both are. Always.”

The Eye of Agamotto bursts into light again. Once again, Tony feels like he’s going under. Steve’s arm tightens around his shoulders, his blue eyes fading into white. 

 

Tony smells rye whiskey and gunpowder.

 

-

 

_ The world ends on the summer of 1872.  _

 

_ Tony’s woken by Steve’s voice, and for a moment, he thinks he spent the night in the clink again, leaning against the bars, singing old Irish love songs at Sheriff Rogers. But that sound isn’t Rogers telling him to can it.  _

 

_ “Throw off the dual yokes of tyranny and corruption!” Rogers is shouting from somewhere outside. “Take back Timely with me. Don’t be afraid…” _

 

_ Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid.  _

 

_ The words rattle in Tony’s head, not because they’re particularly profound, but because Rogers is not asking. Tony will never know how that man can’t see how he’s not like normal folk. While he ruminates, the commotion outside gets louder...and louder still until unease prickles the back of Tony’s neck. He just about manages to hoist himself up on all fours when the gunshot rings out. _

 

_ Time stops for the length of Steve’s dying groan, then starts up so fast that Tony doesn’t even remember how he got his hands on a pistol before he’s outside, screaming and screaming and screaming.  _

 

_ “We let him die in the street!” His vision blurs with tears. Rage and grief power his trigger finger. “We’re all damned!”   _

 

_ Carol puts an end to the violence before he kills an innocent bystander and tells him to be sensible, but she doesn’t  _ understand _. Timely is changed without Rogers, but Tony has been made nothing. The profound hollow in his chest while he still lives is not Hell, but the worst sort of Purgatory.  _

 

_ The Iron Man is born from this very heartbreak. With every strike of the metal, Tony feeds it stories like a widow teaching her son of a father lost to war and his heroic deeds. In turn, the Iron Man makes Tony brave.  _

 

_ Timely is saved. _

 

_ Months later, Tony still doesn’t have what Rogers had. He is still as great an inventor as he ever was, but hope is not something he can summon from thin air because that requires an arcane formula of faith and trust that died with Rogers. And some days that still kills him inside. The hollow in Tony chest is set alight with jealousy and grief. Yet, still he bides.  _

 

_ He gives up drinking, but he goes to the saloon when the year ends and the townsfolk gather to celebrate the eve of New Year. Jan makes sure to serve him apple cider and cold water, and Tony watches everyone he knows mill the place.  _

 

_ Everything is light and gold; even the hair of a smiling ghost at the corner of Tony’s eye, marveling at the people being as happy as can be. When the clock strikes midnight on 1873, Tony takes the brass Sheriff’s star from his pocket and presses his lips to it.  _ __  
  


-

 

The phantom press of brass against his lips disappears, and Tony nearly whimpers at the loss. 

 

Beside him, Steve startles awake from his vision. His eyes are wet, and Tony immediately wants to punch his future wizard self in the face. However, he ignores Anthony and reaches out for Steve, his gauntlet catching the meager light like stars on the pitch black suit. 

 

“Hey, you with us?”

 

Steve sniffles and very quickly nods. “I’m fine,” he says hoarsely. Tony thinks about asking if they’d seen the same vision, but then he catches Steve’s gaze lingering on the suit’s ARC reactor and he swallows the question. 

 

He turns to Anthony and far safer topics. “What do you know about what’s coming? What I saw in space...”

 

The sorcerer shakes his head. “This is a problem for you. I can tell you his name is Thanos and that he’s a Titan, but anything more wouldn’t be prudent. And I’m all about the imprudent.”

 

Tony scoffs. “Then, there’s no point to this, is there? What, you can do magic now and you decided to play ghost of Christmas future with us?”

 

“I know you’re upset, but there’s no need to shit on a classic,” Anthony says, like he’s actually reproachful about the whole thing. “Also, it has nothing to do with magic. A catastrophe on the scale of what might occur has implications through the multiverse. I’m here to make sure you understand sooner rather than later⸺ soulmates are the Universe’s contingency plan. You’re meant to trust each other better than most, you’re meant to know each other better than most. Even, and especially, when you don’t have each other.”

 

Tony grits his teeth, frustration sniping under his skin. “We’ll have each other, don’t worry!” he snarls. “What might be useful are details. For example, Thanos: what’s he got against Earth?”

 

“Tony.” Steve voice, heavy and low, pulls him back.

 

For his part, Anthony doesn’t look at all fazed at the outburst. “One universe is not like the other,” he sings. “Trust me when I say this is me helping.”

 

Shockingly, Tony’s nerves are not more soothed. “Really? Time traveling couples therapy is the best you have?”

 

“You’re not just a couple,” Anthony returns. “You’re  _ soulmates _ . The fact that you cannot comprehend how important that is⸺”

 

“We understand,” Steve interrupts this time. Tony ignores the goosebumps crawling up his arm to look as understanding as Steve claims. “I’ve gone through a lot of things this last year, but one thing I keep coming back to is that no matter how good I am at anything, I’m only half as good as I am when I’m next to Tony.” 

 

Fucking hell. Tony raises his eyes and notes how even Anthony looks impressed. 

 

“Yeah,” the sorcerer says. “That’s about it. Mischief managed.”

 

Tony rolls his eyes and scrubs a hand across his face. “Tell me we’re done here.”

 

Floating down diaphanously, Anthony smiles as he walks over to them under his own power. Now that Tony can see him up close, he’s less intimidating than the robes and cloak make it. Still, he looks fan-fucking-tastic for 126 years 

 

“One last thing, actually,” Anthony says. When Tony takes a step back from the Eye and its light, he adds, “But I swear it’s because I really love you guys. Thought you might want to give the couples thing a solid try.”

 

Tony smells expensive perfume this time, and Steve⸺ Steve looks completely awed.

 

-

 

_ The year 2012 is coming to a close somewhere in the universe, and it’s Steve’s first New Year’s Eve with his wife.  _

 

_ It’s somewhat of a miracle if he thinks about all that’s happened in the last year, how close they’d come to some sort of...civil war. Sam would call him dramatic, but he knows war as well as Steve. Nobody comes out the other side unchanged. Every time Steve speculates on the potential loss averted, he considers himself lucky that he’d found love instead.  _

 

_ It didn’t seem like it at first, not with the fights, the anger, and the nights spent filled with spite. Not with Natasha furious at his opinions, or with Steve sick at the way she’d just presumed upon his support for Registration. But none of that had never overshadowed how much he loved her.  _

 

_ Indeed, this night exists because they loved each other⸺ SHIELD and enhanced persons gathered in Stark Tower for the New Year’s Eve party as a gesture of trust and normalcy.  _

 

_ This night, Tasha joins him, sparkling water in hand, to listen to Reed detail his latest draft of the 50-state SHRA initiative. _

 

_ “It’s not ideal,” Reed admits.  _

 

_ “I don’t like it much either,” Steve replies. “But that to me says we’re doing something right.”  _

 

_ The conversation feels like a dream, like a strange sensation of lightness where he should, by all logic, feel heavy. Steve feels like he’s bracing for a punch that never comes.  _

 

_ Reed parts with them eventually. It’s half an hour to midnight, and Tasha winds her arm around his waist, tipping her head up to kiss his jaw. “Dance with me.” _

 

_ Steve leads her out to the floor, where they spin in a slow, lazy, comfortable circle. She’s lovely in red, black curls tumbling over her cheek, flawless and pink and limned in gold.  _

 

_ “Don’t think about it, darling,” she says quietly against his chest. “No more  _ what could have gone wrong _ , and no more,  _ what could we have lost _.” _

 

_ Steve feels his heart speed up. “What?” _

 

_ Tasha winds her arm around his neck, pulls him down for a soft and fleeting kiss, even as they still move. “What matters is that we made peace so they⸺” she gestures at a cluster of their friends and younger Avengers, indiscreetly snapping pictures. “⸺ could have a future. Let’s focus on that.” _

 

_ The countdown to midnight begins just then, and Steve spots their friends draw towards each other: Peter Parker to Mary Jane; Carol to Wanda, Rhodes to Pepper. Behind them, the glint of silver betrays Bucky, who’s laughing into Natasha Romanov’s shoulder. Everything is literally and figuratively golden.  _

 

_ Heart soaring, Steve turns his attentions to his own Natasha.  _

 

_ “Yes, let’s.” _

 

_ - _

 

They both come out of this vision to a disappearing room. The helper bots are fading and the walls grow holes like burning film. Tony himself feels a heavy pull from the void somewhere, like he’s waking up and his conscious has to be pulled into his physical body like molasses. 

 

Anthony is little more than an after image against this particular crumbling pocket of space. He says goodbye, or maybe he thinks it. Either way, Tony can hear it. 

 

Steve takes a shaky breath and then snaps to action. “Do you still have the burner phone?”

 

Tony nods. “Yeah, of course.” 

 

“I’m in a safe house in Madripoor,” Steve says hurriedly. “Or I was, and now I’m probably going back there. I know you were headed elsewhere, Tony, but⸺”

 

“I’ll be there,” Tony interrupts. “You’re safe in Madripoor, you stay put. I’ll be there.”

 

For the first time, Steve smiles. His body is quickly fading, but he walks over and⸺

 

His lips are soft against Tony’s forehead, and Tony feels transported in a way that doesn’t involve magic or science. 

 

“I’ll see you soon,” Steve murmurs against his hair, and Tony lets him linger until the world whites out.

 

_ - _

 

New Year’s Eve 2099, Dwelling of the Sorcerer Supreme

 

“See, Stephen? Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

 

The astro-holographic projection of Stephen Strange from the year 2017 nods. “Are you certain you’ve made them come to terms?”

 

“Haven’t you been listening?” Anthony removes the cloak and waves it away to its pedestal. “They’re soulmates; nobody can make them do anything except themselves.”

 

“Assuring as always, Sorcerer Supreme Stark,” Strange rolls his eyes. “I was under the impression that the Universe would be involved somehow, or is that more, how do you put it, romantic miseducation?”

 

“Well, it sent you to send me to tackle the problem,” Anthony counters cheerfully. “That should tell you all you need to know about the Universe’s intentions. But if it makes you feel any better, nothing’s changed here.”

 

“Good to know. Best wishes for the new year, Dr. Stark.”

 

“Same, Stephen.”

 

-

 

The doors to his chambers open just then and Commander Rogers marches in just in time to catch sight of Anthony, glowing gold with the Eye’s power, and the projection of Stephen Strange slowly melting into stardust. “What was that?”

 

“Sorcerer Supreme stuff,” Anthony replies, slyly. “Ever since we defeated Thanos for good, I’ve become somewhat of a top consultant."

 

Steve raises his brow. “Oh, a paid gig?”

 

Anthony floats down, and hovers just enough to place a kiss on the crown of Steve’s head. “Why does everyone ask me that?”

 

“James needs a new training suit,” Steve mumbles, kissing him back. "Someone taught him to have expensive taste in textiles."

 

“I thought we decided that when James needs stuff, he’s your kid. I’m here for mystic arts, ancient wisdom, and technobabble,” Anthony leans into Steve for a quiet moment wherein they gaze out at the immaculate view beyond the tower.

 

The air is so crisp and clean thanks to alien fauna that the fireworks almost seem alive. There's the World Energy Shield, the global expansion of the little 'Fund the Future' project he'd started at MIT; the establishment of the Next Avengers⸺not bad for turn of the century. And of course, there's his family. Riri is too famous to be constrained to one star system, but James spends his days on Earth. So does Steve, now that he's been made an honest man out of.

 

Anthony tangles their fingers together. “Isn’t it James' third suit this week? What’s he training for?”

 

“Not sure," Steve shrugs. "But apparently, Thorunn’s tearing right through them.”

 

“These kids need a talk,” Anthony sighs. “And maybe  _ the _ talk.”

 

“Does that fall under ancient wisdom or mystic arts?”

 

“Genius,  _ playboy _ , philanthropist, remember?” Anthony sing-songs, and laughs heartily when Steve makes an utterly unimpressed noise. “Alright, let’s go party, my dear. It’s been a shamefully long time since we’ve embarrassed our son with disgusting PDA."

 

Steve extends a hand and smiles. “Together?”

 

“Of course. Together." Anthony takes the Commander’s hand, and they step into the new century.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
